Do come in
Mind your step over the carcasses
and please don’t dwell on these stiff remains,
I am drawing out the hemlock
before I knit confessions
with the bones.
Yes, it’s hard to keep the place tidy
with so many tiny deaths
that are daily pregnant in my mind.
Do sit down, yes, there’s room
if you all move up a bit,
please pay no attention to all the lovers
that I have welcomed between my hospitable thighs;
most were undeserving,
and now just add to the clutter.
To tell you the truth, to be serious
for a moment - this is how I have been bare -
the twist of hair that unfurls and falls
across the white of my back,
reflected in a mirror, which lacking judgement,
showed me the burning empty of the act.
No need of undressing from names
that I might robe myself in
because it’s simpler to unveil only my skin;
this kind of nakedness is an intimacy, isn’t it,
that, at least, conceals the soul.
I have kept warm on the coal of these thoughts,
I fire the furnace to throw on soft-boiled words -
watery enough to not even raise a hiss,
I throw on any promise pledged to me -
none bright enough to light the dark.
These are all the ephemeral things
that I reach for, but never grasp.
The twigs that I rub together
hoping for some spark.
Love that I thought was given, or craved,
it was not really given, I yearned, pleaded for it,
but anyway, no more than a loan.
And thank you, your offer of religion is kind,
but as you can see here now,
I have one of my own.
Image from pixabay.